The Price Of Freedom
by EmrysTheMerlin
Summary: Freedom, Independence, these come with a steep cost. Alistor Kirkland knows this, but Amelia F. Jones is just learning that sometimes you have to lose everything to be free. Fem! America. Right after the last battle in the Revolutionary War. Rated for violence and a bit of blood and swearing.


The Price of Freedom

**Authors Note: This is right after the revolutionary war. Like right after the scene in the anime. I'm using female America AKA Amelia. Scotland isn't a seen character as far as I know but I'm using what he looked like on YouTube. Also NO HISTORICAL EVENTS WERE HARMED IN THE MAKING OF THIS FANFICTION. Meaning it's not entirely historically accurate. As far as I am aware Scotland had nothing to do with the American Revolution though if I'm remembering correctly France did help America. I OWN NOTHING!**

She stared at the nation before her on his knees. His musket was slack at his side and tears streamed down his face. He had been her brother once, but not anymore. She was done with him now. Done being used and smothered.

"What happened to you England? You were so great once." One of her solders returned her musket to her; there was a deep scratch in the wood from where her former brother had stabbed it.

"Should we shoot him ma'am?" It was General Washington.

"No." She stared down at the broken nation in front of her. "No he's done. We're free." The rain that had persisted throughout the battle slowed and came to a halt as the redcoats turned tale and took her former brother with them.

The sun shone down and Amelia felt stronger than she ever had. Yet there was an ache as well, the pain that came with losing family. Her troops cheered and they headed back to the town, Boston, where all of this had started. America looked down at her blue and white coat, colors opposite to her brothers. No, not her brother anymore. His colors hid blood, hers displayed it. So little of it was her own.

The blood of her men stained her coat, indiscernible from the blood of the redcoats. She was her own country now. She could feel all her people now, and England was still on her shores. She knew what that felt like now. Other nations on her land felt different now.

Solders and generals alike smiled and tipped their hats to her as the streets filled with people celebrating. It didn't take long before they lifted her and the generals up on their shoulders.

"Three cheers for America!" They all cheered and she felt warm inside. Free at last. She cheered with them then called above the noise.

"Today is the fourth of July! Let this day stand forever as our day of independence! The day we won what we have fought for!" Cheers rose from the crowd.

"Let's see who'll mess with us now! We have won our independence and we will keep it!" More cheers. One of the crowd stepped forward.

"Free drinks for all those who fought this war!" More cheers and celebrating. After convincing the partying crowd to put her down she made her way to the tavern. The crowd parted for her as she made her way to the bar and sat down. Normally it would be improper for a lady, but she was her own nation now she made the rules.

The barman smiled and set down a shot of whiskey.

"On the house ma'am." She nodded her thanks and downed the shot, ordering a beer to follow it. She nursed that for a while until a tall blonde with hair longer than her own sat down next to her.

"Felicitations Amérique!" He said clapping her on the back.

"Thanks France. So what are you doing here?" She slammed back the last of her beer and motioned for a second.

"To congratulate you Amérique! And as a favor to a friend. Besides it always makes me happy to see l'Angleterre squirm." France laughed. America forced a smile. Then she processed what he had said.

"You've already done me plenty of favors France and I appreciate it. There really isn't anything else for you to do." He shook his head motioning for someone in the shadows to step forward. A tall red haired man with bright green eyes she'd know anywhere came into the light. He had a cigar hanging out of his mouth and her eyes narrowed, hand inching towards her pistol.

"It's alright Amérique. This is Écosse."

"Ye can call me Scotland." His accent was heavy and his eyes were so much like England's. "Or Alistor Kirkland, if ye like. An yes wee England is me brother. Well 'e was before 'e turned into a colossal prig. I brought something for ye. A precaution a sorts." He held up a small box and Amelia opened it slowly. Inside rested a necklace on which hung a pressed metal pendant. It looked like pewter and it looked old the metal swirling from the center into three curling arms enclosed in a circle of the same metal. Amelia raised an eyebrow.

"What's this?"

"A necklace. Me little brother kept ye away from the world te long." She glared at him and he laughed.

"I know what it is! Why are you giving it to me?" He suddenly turned serious, ordering a whiskey.

"Ye of all people hav seen what our former brother is capable of. The things 'e can do with 'is gift are ne always so pretty as 'e'd hav the rest a us think, eh Sassenach?" America's eyes widened, remembering all she had seen England do with his magic.

"And what does that have to do with you, a country I've never met before, giving me jewelry?" He smiled.

"Because I like the fact that a wee lass can put 'im in 'is place. Gives me a speck a hope fer me Matim Ireland, both a them. But I ken wee Arthur better than ye. 'e does stupid shite when 'e's upset. An 'e'd never fergive 'imself if 'e hurt ye like that. It'll keep ye safe from any a 'is hocus pocus, but the rest is up te ye." America watched him then slipped the cord around her neck nodding.

"Well now zat zat is finished shall we celebrate your newfound freedom Amérique?" France ordered a round for the whole tavern and began chatting up one of the barmaids. America took a swig of her beer and looked at Scotland.

"There's one thing about this that bothers me." Scotland nodded, waiting for her to continue.

"You called Ar… England, your former brother, just like he was mine. So why do you still care?" Scotland took a swig from his own beer then looked her straight in the eye.

"Why do ye?" She froze, then looked down into her beer.

"I don't." She muttered but she was lying. Several rounds later France was very drunk and started hitting on her. She took this as her cue to go home. She opened the door, hand still on her pistol. She had her musket slung on her back, loaded and ready its bayonet fixed and sharp.

She fully expected a fight, knowing that England and another country, probably Canada, were inside. She fingered the butt of her pistol for reassurance. Taking a deep breath she stepped inside. It had grown close to nighttime, evening settling in and the candles were lit. Most of the staff was in the main hall trying to hide behind each other. She cleared her throat and they jumped. These were all her people not England's.

"Go outside, join the celebrations. We're free." They left gladly and she caught one of them by his arm.

"If you hear shots firing, don't come inside. Run to General Washington, tell him to arm everyone. If you don't hear shots then don't go to him." He quavered.

"You really shouldn't go in there alone ma'am." She smiled.

"I'll be fine. I'll heal from anything he can throw at me. I'm more concerned about my people. Now go. And don't come back in until I tell you its safe." He nodded and she let him go. He ran outside and waited.

America stepped further into her house. It didn't feel like home anymore though. Just a place she had lived. She could build her own house soon. Several British solders flitted around, glaring at her but they knew better than to attack. They had been beaten.

Finally she found them. England was throwing things into a bag. Canada was clutching his polar bear; she never could remember that damn things name. Canada spotted her first.

"A-America!" He stuttered looking terrified. England whirled and bloodshot green met determined blue.

"What are you doing here? Come to gloat?" She shook her head, arms crossed musket clearly visible.

"No, just wanted to make sure you get everything that's yours." She glanced at Canada and England looked between the two of them.

"Sis, I…"

"No Mathew you don't get to talk to me. You made your choice. So England take your crap and _your_ brother and get out." She said pointedly not looking at Canada. Mathew's eyes filled with tears and it tugged at Amelia's heart. Scotland, who had followed Amelia home just to make sure his brother didn't try an ambush like he had last time, sighed. This scene was so familiar, just like when he won his independence from his younger brother and England had taken North and South Ireland with him. England heard him and spotted the glint of red hair reflecting off America's bayonet.

"Alistor! What in the blue bloody blazes are you doing here?!" He swore under his breath and stepped into the room.

"The whole world's been waitin' te see the pirate king get 'is. Though none of us expected it te be like this." He said casually puffing on his cigar. Amelia didn't look at him, she simply spoke.

"Get out of my house now you Scottish ass. I don't need your help." He nodded.

"I can see that lass. I was just makin' sur no one did anythin' stupid." Before any of the other nations could move America pulled a hunting knife from her boot and pressed it against the redhead's throat.

"I said get out. I don't think you want me to repeat myself." Scotland took a step back into the hallway and nodded.

Aye lassie, I'm goin'. I guess bein' raised by a pirate would turn someone into a pirate themselves." He left and she turned, knife still at her side. England snapped his bag shut. Canada kept crying.

"Get out." Her hand didn't shake as she pointed out the door. England picked up his bag and his musket. He slung the second over his shoulder and grabbed Canada's hand. America stepped to one side to let them pass and as they did something caught her arm. America looked down to see that Canada's polar bear had caught her by the sleeve.

"I'm sorry America." The bear whispered into the quiet. She jerked his hand off her sleeve.

"I don't need your sympathy. At least I'm free now! It's Canada you should feel sorry for! I've got independence? What's he got? Bitter tea and burned scones that's what! Now get out!" She threw her knife at the wall opposite the door away from Canada. She was shouting but she didn't care. England stormed out of the house and her life. Canada hesitated then dropped his polar bear and hugged her for a second.

"Happy birthday sis." He whispered and let go. He grabbed his bear and ran from the house, tears flying after him. America simply stood there for a moment before her knees gave way and she cried.

She was free now, independent and so very alone.

**Translations in order: (All done with Google translate.)**

**Felicitations Amérique: Congratulations America (French)**

**Sassenach: Outlander (Gaelic)**

**Matim: Sister (Also Gaelic)**

**Any other words that don't look like English are my attempt at writing an accent. My apologies if I get it wrong. **


End file.
